


A Rainy Morning's Meeting

by Ralkana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, First Meetings, Gift Fic, M/M, just a mention really, very minor Darcy/Natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1929999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Phillip Coulson of Kent is merely trying to get out of the rain when he very nearly collides with a handsome stranger on the path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rainy Morning's Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kisleth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisleth/gifts).



> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine, I'm just playing with them.
> 
> For Kisleth, on her birthday, and because she is awesome. I hope you enjoy it, Kees!
> 
> **Note ~ In this Regency AU, all sexualities are accepted, and courtship and marriage are legal for everyone.**

 

Phillip Coulson had only completed half of his circuit of his small estate in Kent when he felt the first drops of rain on his face. He bit back an oath as he turned back in the direction of the stables. It was swifter to return the way he had come than to attempt to complete the circuit.

Bad weather had been threatening all morning, but it was rare that Phillip had the time to himself for a ride, and he had been eager to take advantage of the opportunity.

Lola nickered, and Phil smiled and patted her glossy chestnut mane with a fond hand, taking her complaint as chastisement.

"I do apologize for bringing you out in this weather, old girl," he murmured, and she tossed her head and quickened her pace without any urging from him. Lola was quite aware that a dry stall awaited her the end of their ride, and she was rather anxious to get there.

The rain increased, falling harder, and Phillip lowered his head, hoping the brim of his hat would protect his face, even if only in the slightest. The desire to be out of the rain battled with the knowledge that urging Lola to any greater speed was perilous even for such an experienced horseman as he -- it was difficult to see anything in the driving rain.

His caution paid off as an obstacle on the path suddenly loomed out of the rain. Swearing, Phillip pulled hard on the reins, causing Lola to neigh and momentarily fight him. She did not rear, but it was close. There was an answering neigh and oath from the man holding the reins of the horse in Phillip's path.

Phillip's heart was pounding in his breast, and he grasped the reins tightly to keep his hands from trembling. "What the devil?"

"I do apologize," the man said, his eyes wide, as he struggled to calm his horse. "I did not mean to startle you, and I fear I may be trespassing as well. Arrow threw a shoe, and I have been attempting to return to town, but I fear that in the rain, I may have become disorientated."

Phillip's anger, caused mostly by surprise, ebbed quickly at the sight of the man. His clothes and horse showed him to be a gentleman, though there were notes in his speech that made Phillip think that had not always been the case. The man's accent was somewhat familiar -- Phillip had heard it often from the men in the ranks on the battlefield. Sodden as he was, the man could not look less like a threat, though Phillip presumed the same could be said for him, and he was certainly not defenseless.

"It is no matter," he replied. "I am only glad that no one was injured. Phillip Coulson, and this my estate."

"Clint Barton. I would offer my hand, but perhaps we might exchange pleasantries later. If you would be so kind as to point me toward town?"

"Nonsense. The house is just over that hill. Follow me. Please," he added belatedly. He had long been retired from the army -- the ache in his leg never failed to remind him of that -- but the tendency to give orders remained.

"I... yes, thank you," Barton answered, carefully leading his horse up the path beside Phillip and Lola. Lola attempted to increase her speed, nickering angrily when Phillip reined her in.

"It appears your mount is not well pleased with the delay," Barton said with a laugh, and Phillip's hands tightened briefly on the reins at the sound, causing Lola to toss her head. It would not do to dwell on the pleasantness of that sound; it would only cause Phillip misery in the end.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

The rain continued to fall heavily as they walked, making conversation difficult. They travelled the short distance mostly in silence. Phillip could not help studying the man -- there was something about him, something Phillip was unable to resist.

His figure was pleasing, neither too slender nor too stout, and his face was striking, rather than handsome. He carried himself lightly, perhaps even nimbly, and the way he demonstrated such obvious concern for his mount warmed Phillip's cavalryman heart. Phillip was a fair way to being in danger, and he had not exchanged a dozen words with the man!

He sternly cautioned himself to mind himself as they reached the stables. Watts, Phillip's stable master, and Edward, his stable boy, hurried out to assist them as soon as they became perceptible through the driving rain.

"I thank you," Barton said quietly, once they were in the shelter of the stables, as he stood wringing rainwater from the hem of his sodden jacket. "I will be happy to wait here in the stables with Arrow until the rain stops."

Phillip gaped at him. "I would not treat a visitor to my home so poorly -- "

"An unexpected and unfamiliar visitor," Barton said with a rakish grin. The transformation to his rather formidable face was remarkable, and Phillip busied himself helping the stable boy with Lola and Arrow to refrain from staring at the man. When he glanced back, Barton was watching him, though he swiftly looked away when Phillip's eyes caught his, a shy smile playing on his lips.

"Nevertheless, I insist you warm yourself by the fire," Phillip continued. "I would offer my man Blake's services, but unfortunately, he has gone into town for the morning. I am certain that we can find you some dry attire."

"The warmth of a fire would be much appreciated," Barton said, and his smile now was small and thankful. It caused a disquieting flutter within Phillip's breast, but he returned the smile as well as he could.

"The rain has eased," Phillip said with a glance past Barton through the stable doors. "We should cross to the house before it returns."

Barton nodded, and Phillip resisted the urge to offer his arm as they went back out into the morning. Though Barton was not wearing a wedding ring, it was possible he was married, and even if he were not, Phillip had no idea of his inclinations. In any case, it was unlikely Phillip was the sort of man Barton was looking for.

If they were both unmarried, it was quite improper for Phillip to be alone and unchaperoned with him with only a few servants in attendance, but Barton was no blushing, virginal youth, and Phillip was long past his first bloom, a widower with grown children.

Phillip's small household consisted of men who had served under him and their families, and he trusted their discretion, but he did not wish for any risk to either Barton's reputation or his own.

"I apologize," he said as they traversed the short distance between the stables and the house. "I have no hostess or fellow host to welcome you, and my friend, Colonel Fury, is out this morning, accompanying my son and daughter on their morning calls. Though I trust my staff unreservedly -- "

"I am not concerned by chatter, for my own part, but I would not have my presence jeopardize your security," Barton said quickly, alarmed.

"Have no fear on my part," Phillip assured him. "And we shall soon have company, I am sure. The colonel is not fond of morning visits -- though he should not like me to tell you so -- and he will return before long."

Barton laughed, and Phillip rather ridiculously felt a rush of triumphant pleasure at the sound. He folded his hands behind his back and cleared his throat.

"Are you new to the neighborhood?" he asked Barton, who was glancing over Phillip's estate with curious -- and sharp -- eyes.

"Merely visiting," Barton replied with a smile. "I have friends in the neighborhood who were kind enough to invite me for a fortnight. Mrs Natasha Romanov and I have been friends these many years, and she and her wife Mrs Darcy Romanov are hosting me."

"Ah, yes, they are lovely neighbors. Quite a pleasant addition to the neighborhood; we have passed many morning calls and evening assemblies in company. Will you be attending Lady Hand's ball tomorrow evening?"

"It appears that I must, or bring shame on my hostesses," Barton said with a roguish smile. It seemed to Phillip that Barton's gaze was speculative as he asked, "Will I see you there?"

Phillip held his gaze, his throat dry at the unmistakable regard in Barton's eyes. "You will," Phillip replied, pleased that his voice did not tremble. "Though I enjoy a dance or two, I have done my time on the marriage market, and ceded my place to the younger gentlemen. There is no one clamoring for my attention."

"Then they are blind. Or fools."

Phillip gaped at him, astounded. Before he could respond, Barton lowered his gaze, his cheeks bright with color.

"I beg your pardon, Mr Coulson," he murmured.

Before Phillip could reassure Barton that his interest was returned, they reached the front door. It was immediately thrown open by Phillip's butler, Peters. Startled, Phillip glanced away, ushering Barton into his home.

"Please, Mr Barton, come in." He did his best to sound welcoming.

Barton nodded his thanks without looking at Phillip, much to Phillip's dismay. He turned to the waiting footman.

"Robert, please tell Mrs Ashton to prepare a bath for Mr Barton, and to have the fire stoked in the Blue Room," Phillip ordered as he removed his sodden hat and struggled with his gloves.

Robert bowed and hurried off, leaving Phillip alone with Barton and Peters. Peters, adroitly sensing his presence was not required, immediately withdrew.

"You are very kind," Barton said quickly, as soon as they were alone. He held his ruined hat in his still gloved hands. The rain had darkened his locks and affixed them to his skin, and yet, Phillip found he could not look away. "That was unforgivably forward of me, and yet, you have still invited me into your home."

"Mr Barton, I was a major in His Majesty's Army under Colonel Nicholas Fury. Let us just say that I... appreciate a direct manner."

Barton smiled, but before he could reply, Robert came hurrying up again.

"Done, sir."

"Thank you, Robert. Please show Mr Barton to the Blue Room and, as Blake is not available, you will assist him in whatever he should need. Should he need dry clothing -- "

"That won't be necessary, thank you, Mr Coulson," Barton interrupted smoothly. "I merely need some time before a fire to make myself presentable once more."

"As you wish, Mr Barton," Phillip answered. "Robert?"

"Y-yes, sir," Robert stuttered, his eyes wide and alarmed.

"Do not worry, Robert. I doubt Mr Barton will require you to know how to tie his cravat in an Oriental knot."

"No, sir," Robert answered anxiously, and then turned to Barton. "This way, sir, if you please."

With a tentative glance and nod at Phillip, Barton followed the footman. The lengthy walk in the rain had caused his breeches to cling rather indecently to his well-muscled form, and Phillip hastily looked away, studying the framed landscape on the wall.

When they had traversed half the staircase, Phillip heard Barton tell Robert quietly, "Do not you worry, Robert. I do not know how to tie an Oriental knot, either. We shall muddle along together."

Phillip smiled and went to see to his own attire.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Properly attired, and with his hair now dry and in order -- what remained of it, Phillip thought with despair -- he strode down the corridor toward the drawing room, intending to be sure there was tea and chocolate prepared for his children and his guests, unexpected and otherwise.

The door to the Blue Room was open, and Phillip's steps faltered as he passed it, and then they stopped entirely.

Barton stood before the window in shirtsleeves and breeches, sans waistcoat and jacket. The light from the window illuminated him such that his trim form was perceptible through the thin linen. Phillip drew in a startled breath at the sight.

Turning at the sound, Barton gasped in return, his eyes widening in alarm. "Mr Coulson! I was not aware the door was open -- "

"I beg your pardon, I did not mean -- " Phillip began hastily, gaze flitting everywhere but toward Barton.

" -- you must think I am the worst sort of forward and wanton -- "

" -- if you will excuse me, I -- "

" -- wait! Please, Mr Coulson."

"This is highly -- "

"I know! I know, but please... you must allow me to apologize. I cannot have made any impression on you but a dreadful one," Barton said in distress, and against his judgment, Phillip took a step into the chamber.

"That is not true, you -- "

"Nat has told me so much of you, of your wit, your kindness and generosity, your modesty, your unfailing dedication to your children and your home, and I was very much looking forward to making your acquaintance at the ball tomorrow night, and now I have ruined it all!"

"Mr Barton, please," Phillip murmured, stepping closer still. The man's eyes were absolutely remarkable, a color that could not be easily described, and now, they shone with passion and despair. Phillip could not look away. "You have not ruined anything. On the contrary, I find your... candor and your expressive demeanor refreshing, and... captivating."

Barton -- or rather, Clint, for Phillip could not now think of him in such formal terms, improper as it might be -- regarded Phillip in wonderment, eyes wide under his long lashes, perfect lips parted in an O of surprise, and Phillip could no longer resist. Closing the distance between them, Phillip raised a hand, stroking it gently over Clint's cheek. Clint leaned briefly into the caress before reaching up to clasp Phillip's hand in his own, wrapping his other hand around the back of Phillip's neck.

Their lips met in an ardent kiss, and Phillip savored the taste of him. Sliding his hand to Clint's shoulder, he reveled in the feeling of firm muscle under fine linen. It had been so long since his desires were so easily awakened, but one kiss with this man stirred them to flame like a lightning storm through dry grass. Clint's hand on his waist was a brand that burned through Phil's jacket, waistcoat, and shirt, and he found himself straining for more.

They broke apart with a gasp at the sound of laughter and voices drifting up from downstairs.

Phillip felt scorched, his body alight. Clint was flushed and breathless, and Phillip nearly groaned at the vision he presented.

"I must go," he whispered. "Before we are discovered. But please, Mr Barton... you must allow me to do this properly. Please say you will save me a dance tomorrow evening, and allow me to call on you."

"First dance, last dance, and every dance, should you wish it, sir," Clint replied, his voice a deep, inviting murmur.

"I must go now, or I shall not, and damn the consequences. You must come down soon, I should like to introduce you to my children, and Colonel Fury."

"But what will they think of my being here -- "

"They will be happy for me -- it is everyone else whose tongues would wag, and I find do not care about that."

"I would be honored to meet your family, Mr Coulson."

It was on the tip of Phillip's tongue to request -- demand -- Clint call him by his Christian name, but it was far too soon for that -- he had not yet lost _all_ his wits. He could not go without one last touch, however.

He seized Clint's hand, bringing it to his lips. "I am very pleased your Arrow threw his shoe."

"I have never been so grateful for an incompetent blacksmith," Clint answered with a wry grin.

Phillip laughed, bowed, and hurried down to meet his family. His heart felt light. For the first time in years, he found himself impatient for a ball.

**END**

 

**Author's Note:**

> PS ~ I did not find a way to work in this headcanon, but Phillip's twins are Leo and Jemma. *g*
> 
> Also, it's been a couple of years now since I wrote anything Regency, so if you find something that's waaaaaaaaaaaaay weird, please kindly let me know. Thanks!


End file.
